Playlist
by FuzzBucket
Summary: One shots from a writing with a prompt contest.
1. Untitled

I'm in a writing contest over on the WB HP fanfiction boards, its called Playlist and the prompts are based on music and song lyrics. (And just in case you are from there, the name I am using there is a pseudonym so no need to freak out that I stole Kayley's story, I am Kayley.) Here is what I came up with for the first round. I scored a 27 out of 30 so I was pretty happy with that. My main problem was not having enough background information in the story, so I will just update you at the end in case you can't tell where it is from.

I will continue to upload my entries for the duration of the competition so you can take a look at what I have come up with.

For this round we were given eight lines each from six songs by different artists and asked to pull something out of one of them to create a one-shot around. The song I chose was "One Lonely Visitor" by Chevelle and I actually chose the title as my inspiration.

This piece is currently untitled so if you have any ideas for a title please let me know! If I chose your title you will be credited!

Ps. I know its really short.

* * *

I sit with my back against the wall. How fitting, given my current situation. Kill or be killed, that is how it will end, I'm sure of it.

The water on the floor, like a mirror, reflects the agony on my face. The only disturbance to the surface is the single tear that cascades down my cheek before dropping into the pool at my feet. I sigh, contemplating the future.

I'm not alone in this room; the company I keep is with the memory of a gruesome past. I don't need to speak; I've already told her my story.

She sits, if a ghost can sit, on the sink. She faces away from me, a doomed boy, for I am just a boy, far too young to be faced with such a mission. She sneaks a peek at me through the mirror, as if she doesn't know that I am watching her. If I were more disruptful she would be bothered by my presence, but I keep to myself. I seek solitude as opposed to sympathy. That is why she lets me stay.

Is it a coincidence that the reason for her situation is the same reason for mine? Perhaps that is why I have come to her humble abode when I need to reflect on my past and plan for my future. She was the victim of a strange and mysterious creature, who came into being through evil itself. A similar evil to what forces me to plot and plan and soon to take my victim.

To some, I chose this evil myself. I would not argue that fact. However, I would add that it has also been born into me, like a destiny of sorts. That brings up the age old debate, nurture or nature? Personally I would say both. My parents have chosen a certain lifestyle, and in the beginning I did not have a choice in whether I wanted to share in that belief or not. As I have gotten older and more mature I have slowly been handed more freedom, and yet I have not changed my path, therefore I am partly to blame for my future actions.

To be clear on this instance, I do believe my victim has done no wrong to me. But he has threatened the way of life that I have accepted and therefore I will go on with my given task, regardless of the pain it puts me through. Because the pain I suffer now is nothing compared to the pain I will surely experience if I fail. Not only the pain I will feel but the pain my family will feel, both physical and emotional, is too much to surrender by giving up now.

I am brought out of the 'what ifs' and 'buts' and into the present by the sound of the water dripping from the tap. I look at my gracious hostess staring back at me in the mirror and don a small smile for her sake. When I leave and never return she will undoubtedly be alone.

I am her one lonely visitor. The only one who keeps coming back for more. I accept my loneliness as a part of my given task; I wouldn't have it any other way. But maybe she is lonely too. Maybe I am her salvation from the boredom that she must certainly feel. She will surely be the lonely one now. And I will have been her only refuge.

* * *

Background: If you couldn't tell that was Draco Malfoy in the second floor girl's washroom. Moaning Myrtle is his company. This event is referenced in HPB where Myrtle mentions to someone (I forget who, if you remember please let me know) that a boy has been crying in her washroom. There is also the scene in the bathroom where Harry uses the Sectumsemptra spell on Draco and he (DM) bleeds massively and Snape comes and blah blah blah.

Side Note: My apologies to everyone who has me on author alert in hopes I will update The Fred and George Variety Show. As of the most recent episode posted (which was a long time ago, I know) I haven't come up with any new episodes. I haven't forgotten about how loyal you guys have been and all the little messages I have been getting since with people expressing their love for the series. I will eventually churn out another edition but I want to make sure I don't just write some piece of garbage just for the heck of it. I want it to be up to the same glorious fluff level that you have all come to love and expect, so when a new episode comes out it will be awesome, I just don't know how soon or far away that will be. Thanks for all your support!


	2. A Different Harry

The competition appears to have been canceled, unfortunately. As well, this entry has yet to be scored.

Inspiration: The line 'Down in the street they're all singing and shouting,' from "Cassandra" by ABBA made me think of a celebration of some sort, which then made me think of the defeat of Lord Voldemort. Then the line 'I see her, and she's with him,' from "Disappearing Boy" by Greenday, which made me think of someone cheating, and that's how I came up with the story.

* * *

Harry Potter was nineteen years old. He still had his unmanageable, jet-black hair and his strange, lightning shaped scar. He still wore glasses, although these ones were definitely a step up from the spell-o-taped ones he used to wear. He was still a Gryffindor, now just in spirit, but that's all that really matters after all. Although now there was something different about this man, yes man, for he hadn't been a boy since he had faced Lord Voldemort countless times, and finally defeated him. He was numb. He had been faced with his biggest fear, losing a loved one, yet again.

He remembered that night of celebration after he had finished off Voldemort. Ironically the thing that ended the greatest dark lord that had ever existed was the same thing that caused him so much pain at this very moment, love. Anyways, he remembered that night, having nowhere to go other than a room at the Leaky Cauldron, because Hogwarts had been demolished, and his aunt and uncle had been forced out of their home because of him, not that he felt bad. He sat in the tiny room, in the pistachio green, moth eaten chair and looked out the window at all the witches and wizards in the street, shouting and singing. They were celebrating his accomplishment. Harry was happy too, he just felt like being alone for a bit, not to mention he was more than a little tired.

He sat there and thought about Ginny. Now that the war was over she would be his, no excuses. He was going to ask her to marry him, today. He picked up the small, crimson, velvet box and put it in his pocket as he got up and left the room.

He found Ginny at the Burrow, with her remaining family. Harry couldn't wait, so he pulled her aside into the kitchen.

"Ginny, there's something I need to ask you."

"What is it, Harry? Is everything okay?" She was worried about him and thought maybe something was wrong.

"Everything's fine, everything's great, wonderful actually," he tried to smile, but it came out a bit forced. He didn't know why this was so hard for him, he loved her and he should be happy that he was going to ask her to spend the rest of her life with him. Maybe it was just the overwhelming sense of loss due to the battle.

"Okay, what is it then?"

"Ginny, I love you."

"I love you too," it almost came out as a question. What was he doing?

Harry got down on one knee, right their in the kitchen of his best friend's parent's house and asked Ginny, "Will you marry me?"

"Of course!" She smiled, it was the first real smile in a long time, and it felt really good. She jumped into Harry's outstretched arms and they hugged for almost a minute.

They went into the family room, where Molly, Ron, Arthur, Hermione, George, Fleur, Bill, and all the rest of their remaining family were and told them. Everyone had been expecting this outcome, obviously. They had all expected that eventually Harry would become a member of the family, legally.

And so their life went on, Harry and Ginny bought a little flat in Diagon Alley, so Ginny could be close to work. Harry took a little time for himself and then, when he was ready, worked as an Auror for the ministry rounding up the remaining Death Eaters and other various trouble makers.

Life was simple and happy for the young couple, and young they were, they were both still teenagers. But they had grown up fast and grown up together, which was why their relationship worked.

One day Harry had to take a trip as part of his job. Ginny wasn't too happy about him being away for a few days, and neither was he. He was off to France to track down an escaped convict, the trail that had been left was false and Harry realized it almost immediately. He headed back to London, empty handed and disappointed in himself for not realizing it was a trick sooner.

As he approached the door of his apartment building he thought that he would surprise Ginny with some flowers and a home cooked meal, since she wouldn't be home for a little while yet. He thought it would be a nice treat, him home several days early and a nice meal waiting for her when she got home.

He went to the delicatessen across the street and picked up some spaghetti sauce and bought some roses at a street vendor. Harry was pretty pleased with his selection and crossed the street back to his apartment building. He climbed the stairs while trying to balance his duffle bag, the sauce and the flowers. He pulled out his key and reached for the handle when he got to the door; the door was unlocked, which was strange. He assumed Ginny forgot to lock it.

Harry put everything but his bag on the counter in the kitchen, which he placed on the floor while he searched the kitchen for a vase. He could never remember where Ginny kept anything. Strangely enough as he was wandering around the kitchen, he thought he heard voices. He figured Ginny had left the TV set on. She was certainly becoming forgetful. Or maybe she was home.

He headed for their bedroom, leaving the roses lying in their packaging on the counter. When he opened the door, expecting to find either an empty bed or Ginny, he found neither. He found Ginny in bed with their neighbour from across the hall, Tom.

He couldn't move, he couldn't say anything, he couldn't even think. Instead he turned around, and closed the door as Ginny scrambled out of bed clutching a sheet around her.

He was so mad that he wasn't. Nothing made sense to him anymore, nothing mattered. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and held it in two hands. He paused for a minute, deciding if this was really what he wanted to do. It was. He snapped the wand and placed the two broken halves on the counter and walked out the door. He kept walking, down the cobblestone pathway, through the Leaky Cauldron, and out into muggle London.

He was never again seen in the wizarding world. He was alone, with nowhere to go and no Lily, no Dumbledore and even no Snape to save him.

Harry Potter was nineteen years old. His appearance was the same as it had always been, but now a certain look of discontent sat upon his face. There was something else different about this man. He was a muggle, he had grown up thinking he was one so what was the difference? The difference was he had been a wizard once and saved the wizarding world, and then he had turned his back on it because the one thing that had always mattered to him was gone.


End file.
